The Empty Promise The 79th Hunger Games
by Without Daunt
Summary: My version of a Hunger Games, exploring the broken background of a boy from District Seven. *Rating is based on later Chapters*
1. Prologue

_**Authors Note:**_ I am totally aware that the 74th Hunger Games was the last, but I wanted to do one with totally original characters, so let the 79th begin. Also I begin explaining District One and then I skip to District 7, for obvious reasons, please don't kill me for this, but I didn't want to toy on a a massive extract for every District, when really the District One opening was to set a scene and District 7 is to introduce the character.

_**Disclaimer:**_ Unfortunately I have no imagination nearly as good as Suzanne Collins, so although the characters are mine the idea belong to the amazing Suzanne Collins.

* * *

"Evan Quill; The Empty Promise"

Prologue

_District One_

The glamorous stage towered above the land and the people of District One. All eyes fixed on Wrent and his bright, dazzling, purple suit, which flared up around his ankles and shoulders. The sun rolled over the horizon like an ochre eye of a prancing cat which was mirrored in the eyes of the people. Wrent's voice was projected around the stadium-like gathering place. It sounded elated and experienced as the words slipped out from his mouth, "Welcome! Welcome! The 79th anual Hunger Games is upon us already!" His hands clapped together in a childish excitement, "Let us be polite, lades first." His child-like nature was mirrored in his joyful skip across stage towards the glistening, pearl, fish-like bowl as he finally brought himself to his calm sense and announced softly, "May the odds be ever in your favour." His hand dived into the sea of paper and as the crowd held their breaths he plucked one out and allowed the crowd to gasp as he unfolded it surely. Silence followed before a glow sparkled in Wrent's eyes and he boomed a very familiar name across the stadium, "Marie Tims!" Usually District One was full of volunteers and it was often a struggle of picking out the ultimate competitor, but this time the girls stayed silent - not because they weren't keen, but because Marie Tims had a reputation. She was the best in the careers training centre and she had already mortally wounded many competitors in 'friendly duels' this was most definitely her year, and anyone standing up against her would probably already be dead. Marie was was beaming from ear to ear as she moved with her rippling blonde sand-like hair swaying and her shivering blue eyes sparkling in excitement, she wasn't much more then sixteen, but obviously was determined, and in the end determination defied the winner from looser. She manoeuvred her way at a constant pace towards the stage, her sequin dress floating around behind her, catching the wind slightly before settling as she climbed the stage sharing the excited smile of Wrent's. She bowed her head respectfully and calmly announced, "I will win for you!" As Wrent laughed at her enthusiasm she half-yelped with excitement and accepted the vibrant applause of the enthusiastic crowd.

Silence fell after what seemed like hours of clapping and hooting, as all the boys suddenly stiffened out of excitement - their turn to shine. Wrent called with eagerness, "Timothy Newton." In those seconds before Timothy could move a muscular boy with frizzy black hair jumped into the air in an elated dance, "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!" He raced at a startling pace to the stage and boomed into the microphone, "Zackery Burr, and well, I want to apologise to all those who wanted a place today but didn't get it. I would say I'm sorry, but I'm not." He said it almost solemnly, but his face left another story - one of determination and total elation. However it didn't prevent Wrent from throwing his head back in the common hysterics that was often the case of all escorts. Wrent couldn't really wait for silence this time, so clapped his hands together and spoke close to the microphone, turning his voice into a brilliant sound, "Well, well we have our two spectacular tributes, so we'll be leaving shortly - come and say your goodbyes!" The crowd screeched and cheered for a few minuets before parting their separate ways with a few moving towards the tribute rooms planning their abrupt goodbyes.

_District Seven_

The silence in District Seven was unbearable, everyone stood in their formal lines hiding away their aches and pains. Cinnamon crossed the stage and rather half heartedly she called the name of the girl tribute representing District Seven in the 79th Hunger Games, "Thrush Matt." Although glum and upset Thrush made her approach to the stage, somewhat rememberable. She skipped towards the stage, not happily, but with defiance, high-fiving all those on the edges of isle. Although her teeth chattered she called into the microphone, sarcastically, but with meaning, "May the odds be ever in my favour." The District Seven audience smiled in admiration and clapped slowly acknowledging her bravery and defiance. Cinnamon blinked away her tears and moved to the boys before calling, slightly more depressed then usual, "Evan Quill." A grieving howl erupting from the crowd. Many members of the crowd clasped their hands to their faces and even Cinnamon dropped the paper, tears welling in her eyes. Almost everyone in all the Districts and the Capitol knew the story of the the Quill's, it was said they were a cursed family, and today had proved just that. In the 72nd Hunger Games the oldest son, Tirant Quill, aged 17, entered the Hunger Games and died. Since then the oldest daughter, Melony Quill, aged 15, died in the 74th Hunger Games, but also her twin, Sandra Quill was drawn two years later in the 76th Hunger Games. The only remaining Quill son was 15 now and that was Evan Quill, now it was likely that none of the Quill's children would every survive their 18th Birthdays. Evan Quill moved quiet towards the stage, eyes fixated on him as he saw his mother blinking away tears and his father standing in a morbid halt beside her - this was the end, the cursed family could no longer be cursed.

_In the Capitol_

The lights of the Capitol glared as we got closer and closer until thousands of people were waving and smiling whilst each et of tributes stepped out of their carriages in a blurry haze of panic, excitement and fame. Many of the tributes shared the smiles of their escorts and trainers, reflected in the faces of the people, but a few shared the sense of dread that filled their gut. Each tribute lined up waiting silently as there stylists came and called their names. The calling seemed to ring on forever, even after the tribute had left. No one registered anything. Moments like these were tense, may tributes were already judging who they would want as allies, and worse - who they should kill first. The speakers boomed, shocking the tributes from District 11 and 12 - which, obviously, all the careers just laughed at, "District Seven; Evan Quill." That as me.

I moved slowly, clenching my hands to avoid shaking from head to toe - right now I could show no weakness. I held my chin high and turned to lock high contact with the girl from four, I believe her name was Samries, but I couldn't care less about the careers right now. Shaking the hand of a very slim, very pale, tall man with a comb back of electric blue hair, was when I suddenly realised the differences that the Capitol shared with the Districts. There was nothing in common. This man clasped my hand confidently whilst firmly mentioning his name, "Score" before pulling me along with his emerald pinstriped suit rippling around his ankles and cuffs - such strange attire. It wasn't long before I was being thrust into a chair and having outfits of all colours and shapes pressed up against me, with men fiddling with my hair strangely my ears. I didn't register much and I was glad of that, because by the time they were finished I was left in an emerald green suit, a similar shade to Score's and watching him clap in an elated, over-reacted, probably planned movement. When Cinnamon and Wood walked in I was happy, for once, to see there familiar faces. Cinnamon joined in with the elated clapping and I pondered whether it was a 'Capitol thing'. Wood just smiled and nodded respectfully. Time passed as I slipped out of the suit and into a tight fitting, fighting-ready combat suit with the number seven imprinted on the sleeve, representing my District, District Seven. Wood had shoved me along the corridor until I was outside the training room and the last thing I heard before entering the lethal session ahead of me was, "Your late."


	2. Chapter One

_**Authors Note:**_ Not many people are reading this, but I'm posting this anyway as it's my first story and **I **want to get the next chapter up! :)

**_Disclaimer:_**Despite having written my Prologue I am still not nearly as creative as Suzanne Collins, so despite the character being mine the idea is still hers.

* * *

I waiting quietly. Slowly shifting my weight from one foot to the other as I watched each pair of tributes being whisked away. So far the careers from one, two and four seemed perfectly happy with each other as if they had been friends for years, and it was their bubbly faces and snarling expressions that seemed to enclose me further, pushing me into a tiny box whilst sucking out all the air. All of them had reasonable muscle strength too and all were, obviously, careers - ready to fight and would do anything to win, oh how the Capitol would love them! Most of the other tributes just shared the same look of tense agitation, withering from side to side as they were cruelly ripped away from loved ones. None of them looked ready to fight, they were weak, feeble and scared. Only the careers and the boy from six, Admiral French - if I remember correctly - looked confident, enjoying their attention and the frequent hooting from the passers by. I turned my head in a jerky fashion pondering my own existence in this 'game' and whether I was ready for this or not, and as I wondered my eyes flashed a glimpse over at the pair of faces from eleven. There dull, frightened eyes were fixated on me, almost cold, almost terrifying. I wasn't quiet sure what to expect from then and thank goodness that I was able to withdraw my head from their directions and focus on the girl from four and boy from three - whether that was a preferable choice to make, I wasn't sure. Both of them were talking mildly, almost secretively, with words ushering from under their breaths. I wasn't ready to understand their thoughts, but I hoped that they weren't planning to pick on me first. I may be terrified and completely useless, but I wasn't ready to die yet.

Everything from their on until the next morning was a blur of unregistered thoughts and events, the people wailing and calling in recognition of our skills - was now all just a memory. Yet I couldn't quiet get to grips with the news that today we would be able to train with the tributes. We only had three days left to perfect the perfect skills in training to stay alive and to perform the most spectacular demonstrations we could for the all important scores. 'Training day', as the careers were beginning to call it, was approaching fast and as I finally plucked the courage, out of goodness knows were , I was manoeuvring to the metal sliding doors feeling like I was now a part of the games and from here on I had crossed the point of no return - although I had crossed that a long time ago. Wood nudged my shoulder, "Come on Evan. You need allies if you want to survive and looking like a great wuss will not help you." He said it firmly and that somehow comforted me, but I still said nothing and just nodded sheepishly whilst I arose from my trance. Thrush stood beside me, very silently - I had almost forgotten her - her head was moving backwards and forwards as if dancing in a panicked way. The doors opened onto an array of fighting and chaos as the tributes tested their skills. Wood began to whisper, "To the bench." Thrush kept to the walls, like a blinded animal, as we made our way - cautious of the knives and swords being hammered about - towards the bench.I followed Thrush;s panicked eyes as she looked longingly at the craft table, but Wood shoved her along. I took a seat glancing around. I had told myself not o judge anyone, but unfortunately I already was, before I could hit myself for being such an idiot Wood began to talk - and probably for the the best, "Look over their. You see the tall black haired boy throwing that sword?" My eyes fixated on the exact boy in question and I nodded, "That's Zackery Burr. He's a career, very good with knives and swords - very powerful. He'll team up the girls next to him, Marie Times and Cin Lati." I groaned already seeing a really strong alliance, "Anyone else?"

"As a matter of fact yes, he'll probably choose the two boys in hand-to-hand combat over there." Wood pointed to a violent wrestling match in the corner, "Arthur Cadwell; District Two and Agore Wench; District Four. They are all careers and have a unquenchable thirst for blood."

Woods description of the tributes continued for what seemed like hours, mentioning names, strengths, weaknesses, but I took a limited amount in. I didn't seem fair. Finally Wood gave in and turned to Thrush, who was eyeing up the crafts table again, "Go on then, get working on your craft." He paused, whilst Thrush's eyes lit up in a happy surprise, "and don't be so surprised, you've hardly been listening, you have just focused on that blasted table." Seeing Thrush bound up smiling brightly made everything seem so much worse, but Wood just looked at me like a wounded pet with a sorrowful expression in his eyes and immediately I grasped his thought, Thrush was not going to last long at all. I chocked. wood was obviously experienced in 'breaking silence', because he coughed and that shattered the thought from both our heads as he spoke in a calm, collected manner directly at me, "So were do your strengths lie?" I paused. I thought deeply and carefully about my answer, but found nothing adequate that would make the cut, so I returned to the 'Evan Quill trade mark' of shaking my head, "I'm sorry I don't know." Wood just laughed, he was taking light of the subject and for that I was almost angry, but how could I be angry at the man who was trying to save my life? I just couldn't.

"Oh so modest! In my day we were all itching to show off. Come on! I saw you throw that spear on District Seven's weapon day. You hit target bullseye pretty much every time!" I went slightly pink with embarrassment, I hated that day, hated all of it, "Yeah. About that..." but before I could even finish the sentence Wood was up and raising his voice in excitement, "Come on then, lets whip some ass!" Before I could even compose an answer and raise from the stand Wood had retrieved a spear and had shoved it in my hand. It felt cold. It felt lethal. Ignoring the dread that was settling in my stomach I bounced the spear in my hand testing its weight and when I was comfortable I did the wrong thing. I glanced over at the crowd of tributes that had gathered. Nerves surged through me as the careers shared a smug look between themselves. If I failed this I may as well be dead already. I stood on the pod and began to hum under my breath so quietly not even I could hear it. Within a flash the first body lit up and I launched the spear forward, it suspended itself in the air for a moment before falling short of the figure. Laughs broke out behind me and Wood sighed slightly dropping his head to the floor. The careers began to turn their backs and mentioned cruel words like "idiot" and "weak" which only made me want this so much more. I pulled up the next spear and zoned myself out from the watching eyes. The next body flashed. The spear surged forward before I was even ready and it hurtled in the air before a smacking type sound echoed in my head. It hit. Bullseye. I turned confidently back at the window hoping now to get some better expressions, but everyone had gone. The only remaining two faces watching were the two from District 11, my followers in the line. I smiled at them, sharing their pain, and they smiled back.

Days flew by as allying forces were becoming more and more obvious. The careers had joined forces building a tiresome, lethal crew of Zack and Marie from District One, Arthur and Cin from District 2 and Agore from District Four. However it wasn't just there alliance that was forming, a couple of pairs were breaking away - the most obvious being the girl from Eight, Catty and the girl from Ten, Kat. Even I had allies now. After my disastrously brilliant time throwing spears I had allied with the two from eleven, Ethan and Kelly. Yet my alliance didn't stop there, after some conversaitions and some fn with the knvies and swords yesterday I had also nabbed the girl from four - who was definitely a must-have on the team, being a career and ol that - Faith, but also the boy from three, Damon - who seemed very lethal in his own rights. All five of us varied in skills and all added together we had a perfect advantage. We were all confident when the individual assessments arrived and even if we didn't receive perfect marks were were happy with the strong team we had built. Name after name was called as broad smiles returned from the career tributes until finally my name wrung out from the speaker, "Evan Quill; District Seven." I rose from my seat glancing at the pair from District Eleven as reassurance as I left. Both in turn nodded their heads as sign of comfort and good will. I entered the arena. I hated eyes and by far those of the game keeper and his friends were the worst so far, they stared into my soul picking out parts of me as if they could read me like a book. I shivered the thought away before clasping my hand round one of the cold metal spears and prepared my self on the pod waiting for the bodies to light up. I told myself over and over again to breath, 'it is just like before, just like before'. The lights flashed and smash, bullseye. Lights, smash, bullseye. Over and over again until I was finished planting a spear in bullseye each time. I breathed a sigh of relief before turning my head and locking eye contact with the game keeper - who surprisingly nodded his head in a form of acknowledgement. Rushing out of the room was like leaving a school test paper completed knowing you had 100% it was perfect. Those next moments full of agitation and nerves rushed by and soon everything was over.

The enxt days leading up until the results and interviews flew by but at the same time life seemed to stand still. It was me, Thrush, Wood and Cinnamon all nervously seated on the sofa when the results show was about to start and I was so nervous I had almost begun shaking. The Districts moved in order. The voice of the commentator was hoarse, but elated - like every other Capitol citizen around here. "District One; Zackery Burr; 10." I groaned, "Marie Tims, 10." Just my luck, two great scores, for two great competitors. The list went on with Arthur, Cin and Agore all earning 10's, Faith earn't herself a 9 and Damon an 8. Admiral French the large, feisty many from six, who seemed to be hanging out with the careers got himself a 10 as well, which worried me slightly about how many careers were in the games this year. Finally Thrush's name was announced, "District Seven; Thrush Matt, 5." I smiled and squeezed her hand kindly, "Well Done," I whispered, before pushing my weight forward awaiting my result, "Evan Quill; 10." I smiled happily and almost giggled whilst Wood slapped me on the back in excitment, "Good on you." They were all the words I needed, maybe I could make this after all. Maybe in the end I could go home.


End file.
